


Pretty Boy

by Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Comeplay, Crossdressing Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-03
Updated: 2010-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt which asked for Tommy in a skirt, wall!sex in public, protective Adam, dirty talk, and Tommy doing a very public walk of shame with Adam's come leaking out of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Boy

It's Tommy's first time at a drag show. He's met lots of drag queens, being around Adam all the time, and there was that time in Cabo when they apparently got him into a corset (though he doesn't remember much of it), but this is the first time he's been able to sit down and watch an actual _show._

It's actually really fun, more than he'd thought it would be. The hostess is hilarious, big and boisterous and so, so dirty. And of course she pulls Adam up on stage with her, and he giggles and waves to the cheering crowd and plays along good-naturedly. And that seems to be his attitude toward most of the show – light, fun, happy.

And then that changes. The last performer is announced, one they haven't seen yet, Amelia something-or-other. She's smaller than the others, skinny, almost frail-looking, with high pointed cheekbones and slanting eyes under long silky dark hair. And when Tommy glances at Adam, he recognizes the look in his eyes: lust-fogged, somehow both hazy and sharp. Adam licks his lips and his breath comes a little heavier, and his eyes stay locked on the dancer. And an idea comes into Tommy's head, something he's definitely never thought of doing before...but as soon as he thinks of it, he really, _really_ wants to try.

They get home late, still a little drunk, and fall comfortably into bed. Tommy's a little nervous, but in the year they've been together, he's gotten to know Adam pretty well, and he knows that Adam won't laugh at him or make fun of him, even if he's totally off base.

And it's almost like Adam is reading his mind, because he rolls over and looks at Tommy and asks, "So. What did you think?"

"It was fun...and that last one was really pretty," Tommy says.

"Yes she _was,"_ Adam replies, voice all appreciative attitude.

Tommy pauses just a breath. "Do you...do you think I would look good like that?" he asks, feeling his cheeks warm and his voice go high and quiet.

Adam's eyes go wide, and the smirk is growing on his face even before Tommy's done speaking. "Baby, you were _made_ for it," he says, genuine, always so genuine. Tommy smiles and kisses him, happy, flattered.

"Are you serious, though?" Adam asks. "Do you really want to try it?"

Tommy kisses him again, longer this time, deeper, licking into him and drawing out a low moan. "Will you help me?" he asks when he pulls away, eyes still closed.

And Adam rolls him over and presses him down into the bed and takes over the kiss, and Tommy's about to take that as his answer when Adam moves down to bite at his ear, tongue playing over body-warm silver rings, and whispers, "I am _so_ going shopping tomorrow."

*

A week later, Tommy comes home to a gift-wrapped box sitting on the bed, a note from Adam on top of it. He feels a shiver go through him as he opens the envelope and marvels for a moment at how different his life has become from anything he'd ever thought it would be. But it's a good change, one that feels like moving toward himself, discovering new pieces bit by bit. And then he's reading the letter and he can't quite think any more.

He's to get dressed in what's in the box, and only that. Adam's driver is waiting outside to take him to the club, and Adam's meeting him there. In a way it's so strange, so new and unfamiliar...but Tommy is used to taking direction from Adam. He supposes that comes from having worked together for so long. But still, this isn't quite like tightening up a bass line or adjusting the blocking of an encore, and his hands are shaking as he pulls the paper off the large box.

The first thing he sees is the skirt. It's spread out on top of the rest of the clothes in a vague triangle, black and leather and very, very short. He pulls it out and holds it up to his body, feeling the wrongness of it already, and the first thread of arousal begins to spiral through him.

As he shakes the skirt, enjoying the smooth touch of leather on his fingertips, something falls out of it, something small and lacy and bright-red, and Tommy's breath catches. For some reason, he hasn't even thought about underwear. But Adam has. Of course he has. Tommy bends down to pick it up, gingerly, as if it might bite him. And oh god, it's a fucking _thong._

The thong goes on the bed and the skirt over it, covering every hint of red, because he kind of can't think about that any more right now. Tommy goes back to the box, and finds a thin black shirt, solid silky material in the middle with mesh sleeves. Below that, filling up most of the space, is a huge pair of black leather boots. They seem to go on forever, and Tommy grins and holds one up to his leg, seeing how high it'll go – god, all the way past his knee, resting somewhere on his thigh.

He sets the boots on the floor and looks one more time into the box to make sure there's nothing else. To his surprise, there is – something he recognizes, even. He reaches in and pulls out a pair of his own black socks, old and soft with many washings, neatly folded together the way Adam always does them. Tommy smiles at them, thinking of Adam and how he's so good at getting inside Tommy's head, even when he's not here, and marveling at how he can give just about anything a touch of sweetness – even something that feels so dirty, like this.

The socks go on first. It's easy, familiar, something he does all the time. Then the shirt, because after all, a shirt is a shirt, even one that's tight and soft like this, clinging to his skin. There are little loops at the bottom of each sleeve, meant to hook around a finger, and Tommy slides his middle fingers through them, the fabric stretching to form triangles across the back of each hand. He holds his hands up and admires them, wiggling the fingers, stretching the wrists.

And that's the easy part done. Tommy almost balks at the skirt and thong, his hands hovering over them...but he really, _really_ wants to try on the boots, and those definitely have to be last. He closes his eyes and steps into thin lines of red silk, his heart pounding out a death metal beat in his chest, and it glides along his legs, brushing against the skin in tiny touches. Then he lets out a breath of air, the thong settled into place, and it feels like crossing a line, one there's no coming back from. He moves his hips experimentally, testing out the feel. And ok, it's never going to feel exactly _right_ – the thing is too small, all the wrong shape, and he can't quite find a way to make it cover him in any real sense. But it's _soft,_ so soft, and that keeps it from being uncomfortable either. It's...it's just like he's very aware, his thoughts drawn to exactly what he's wearing with every tiny movement, and he supposes that's the point.

The skirt slides on easily, zipping up one side and resting just right on his narrow hips, and he can't quite believe how exposed he feels in it. His hands run over the hemline, back and forth, checking to make sure it's actually covering him – and it is, barely. It just doesn't _feel_ like it. He twirls, once, just to try it, and to his delight the skirt flares out a little bit around him, and his hands go to his mouth, stifling a giggle. _God,_ this is fun.

He has to sit down to get the boots on, and they slide up just perfectly, tight enough to show the curves of his calves and the angles of his knees, but not tight enough to be uncomfortable. Zipping them up, he stands, slightly unsteady on chunky heels, and wonders how Adam sized them so perfectly. The image of Adam hovering over him while he sleeps, measuring tape in hand, pops into his head, and he's giggling again, and god damn it, he's _not_ a giddy schoolgirl, he's _not,_ and he doesn't _giggle._

But then he's walking to the mirror, the floor-length one on the back of the door, and as he stares at the reflection, something weird and trippy and kind of cool happens. He feels like he's out of his body, almost, looking down at himself as he changes, half-transforms into someone else, someone that's him and not-him and maybe both. And this new person does things that Tommy himself would never do, things like putting his hands on his hips and giving them a sassy pop, admiring the way it makes his skirt move. Things like turning to the side and posing his legs, all his weight resting on one while the other goes up on a toe, and running a hand up his thigh to feel leather and then bare skin and then leather again. Things like leaning in close to the mirror and kissing his own reflection, leaving a faint lip-print behind as he pulls away smiling.

Doing his makeup settles him even more into this new role, something that feels natural and right for both sides of himself. He does it a bit different than his usual look, the eyes a little softer, the lips as pink and plump and shiny as he can make them, and when he's done he feels amazing, like he could take on the whole fucking world.

Tommy takes that confidence and uses it to propel him out the door, and it's awesome, striding down the walkway to the car, heels a rhythmic click on the pavement, and all he can think about is what he might see on Adam's face when he gets a look at _this._

But it's a long drive, just a little bit too long. Tommy picks at the sleeves of his shirt and feels his nerves return, bit by bit, and starts to think about all the ways in which he totally can't pull this off. There's hair on his legs, and you can totally see it on that little stretch of white skin he's exposing, and god, should he have shaved for this? And his hair, his hair isn't right, he should have gotten his roots done like he's been meaning to, because now he just looks trashy, and not in a good way. But it's too late now, and Adam, Adam is waiting for him, and the only thing to do is go on and hope for the best.

Finally, the car comes to a stop, and Adam's driver is out and opening the door for him, and Tommy swallows his nerves and tells himself to treat it like just another performance, pretend he's done it a thousand thousand times before. Getting out of the car is a bit of a production, because he's not really sure how to do it without flashing the whole world, but eventually he manages it. His limbs get a bit tangled in the process, and Adam's driver has to catch him, grabbing him by the arm and standing there steady as you please until Tommy gets his balance back. He blushes and thanks the guy and hurries in as fast as he can in the boots, head down, hiding behind his hair.

The club is dark and crowded, just a random mass of bodies, and Tommy wonders how he's supposed to find Adam in all this. He moves slowly through the crowd, looking from side to side, one hand tucking his hair behind his ear over and over self-consciously. Finally, he feels a larger body come up behind him, and he turns around, looking up and expecting to see a familiar smile under bright blue eyes.

But it's not Adam. The guy is fucking huge, veins bulging obscenely over too-big muscles, and he's leering at Tommy in a very unsettling way, like he wants to _eat_ him, and Tommy doesn't like this at all. He turns away, hoping to make a quick escape, but the crowd is pressing in close and there's nowhere to go, and then the guy has a too-tight grip on his arm, and ok, this is really fucking _scary_ now, and he hates how powerless he suddenly feels.

"Hey!" A voice rings out over the music, growly and possessive and thank-all-the-gods _familiar,_ and the crowd parts, and Tommy looks up to see Adam, in full glam mode, looking ridiculously tall and intensely intimidating as he strides toward them. Adam gets right up in the guy's space, fearless even in the face of bigger and stronger, and Tommy feels a shiver go through him. Yeah, Adam's a toppy bitch, but Tommy's _never_ seen him quite like this.

Adam speaks only one word, perfect Broadway enunciation colored with just the right amount of threat: _"Mine."_

And then the guy's letting go of Tommy's arm and backing away with his hands up, muttering apologies, and Tommy stumbles back a bit, one hand crossing his body to rub away the feeling of strange fingers digging into his arm, fear at the encounter and embarrassment because of the people staring at them and arousal at Adam's sheer presence all combining within him and leaving him almost dizzy.

He finds his balance again in Adam's eyes, Adam's hands as they come to his shoulders and hold him up, Adam's voice as he asks if Tommy's ok, and he nods and reassures Adam that he's fine, ready to forget about it, wanting to move on. And apparently Adam hears that desire in his voice, because he steps back and smiles at Tommy and says, "Oh, let me look at you, just let me look a minute, baby...."

Tommy stands and tries not to fidget as Adam's eyes run over him, head to feet and back in a slow, appreciative sweep. His lower lip catches in between his teeth, and he ducks his head down, and his hair falls in his face so that he has to brush it back again, and he looks up at Adam through his lashes, suddenly shy.

Adam's eyes are _burning,_ so heated that Tommy can almost feel them as they drink in the sight of him, and he wants Adam to say something, or move, _anything_ to break the rising tide of tension. Finally, he can't take it anymore, so he spreads his hands palms-out, and twists slightly to the side, and bends a little at the knee, and asks, "So...good?"

And Adam grins and gathers him up in his arms and kisses him all over, his hands tangling in Tommy's hair, murmuring wonderful nonsense. "Yes, oh my god, Tommy, you look amazing, so beautiful, I love it, how do you _feel?"_

Tommy can't quite get a moment to answer in between kisses, so he just wraps his arms around Adam and presses his body in close, and Adam groans and slides his hands down Tommy's back, gripping his ass through the leather of his skirt, and oh yes, this, this right here, _fuck_ yes.

The crowd starts jostling around them again, and Adam breaks the kiss and takes Tommy's hand and murmurs right in his ear, "Come dance with me." And regular Tommy, the everyday Tommy that wears guy clothes, he's not much into dancing...but whoever he is right now thinks it sounds like an awesome idea, and anyway, Adam's already led him out onto the dance floor and turned him around and spooned right up behind him, and his knees are bent just right to grind into Tommy with those magic hips of his, thrusting up against his ass to the beat of the music, and ok, this is pretty amazing. Tommy still isn't quite as steady on his feet as he'd like to be, but Adam's hands come to his hips and stay there, and that's security enough to let him stop worrying about falling over and focus more on falling into a rhythm with Adam. It's fun and easy and feels amazing, and Tommy can see eyes drifting his way from all over the floor, and with Adam behind him, he's able to look right back.

When the song changes, Adam spins him around and gets his hands on his ass again, groping and squeezing and pulling in tight. Just as Tommy's starting to relax into it, one of Adam's hands begins to wander, sneaking down to graze over the back of his thigh, brushing the very top of his boot and following it around to the front, and then slowly, so slowly, starting to creep its way up between his legs, raising his skirt by inches as it goes. Tommy shivers and tries to shy away, but Adam's other hand is holding him secure, and anyway, it's fucking _hot,_ Adam's fingers sliding all the way up until they're brushing against silk and lace and so-sensitive skin.

Tommy curses at the contact, and Adam licks his lips open and kisses him, deep and dirty, muffling the sounds that keep trying to force their way out of his mouth. He traces the line of the thong back, back, hips grinding into Tommy as he does, and his fingers find their way underneath and rub gently over Tommy's hole, dry and teasing and scandalous, right here in the middle of the dance floor. And Tommy's fucking _hard,_ has been for ages, since they started dancing, maybe before, and he can feel Adam's cock pressing up against him, and he's about to start begging when Adam pulls away.

Adam's eyes flash heat, and he grabs Tommy's hand and leads him to the nearest wall, pressing him back into it, filling up his entire view with his body. His hands go up Tommy's skirt again and hook into the sides of the thong, and then he's pulling it down, over Tommy's legs and boots, and Tommy's stepping out of it one foot at a time, and Adam flings it away over a shoulder, into the crowd of people to be stepped on and kicked away and discarded.

Then Adam's standing again, and he reaches into a hidden pocket somewhere and pulls out a tiny tube, and seconds later there are slick fingers thrusting into him, one-two-three in quick succession, and _fuck_ Adam's gotten good at that, riding that line between pain and pleasure just right and making Tommy weak in the knees. His head is thrown back against the wall, and there's nothing to keep the moans from coming now, his mouth thrown open as he gasps for air, and Adam presses right up against him and starts whispering filthy things in his ear.

"That's right baby, get nice and wet for me, like it when I finger you, don't you? Bet I could make you come just like this, just riding my hand, such a pretty little thing and so fucking desperate for it. Gonna show all these people how you spread your legs for me? You know they're gonna watch, gonna watch me spread you open and fuck you, watch you take my cock. You want that, want them to see me fucking you right through the wall, see how much you fucking love it?"

And on and on, and Tommy's begging now, "Please, Adam, please, just do it, just _fuck_ me already," and Adam's fingers disappear, and he unzips and slicks up in one smooth motion, and then his hands are on Tommy's ass again, pulling _up._ And Tommy jumps, and Adam pulls, and his legs go around Adam's waist and his skirt rides up high on his hips and his booted feet hook behind Adam's back. Tommy drapes his hands over Adam's shoulders, wrists crossed, a gesture which feels all dainty and girly and _right,_ and Adam keeps one hand on Tommy's ass and takes his cock in the other, lining up, and for a brief second Tommy is again appreciating how awesome it is to be in a long-term relationship, because there's no messing with a condom, just Adam's bare cock pressing right up against his hole. And then Adam's thrusting _in,_ just the smallest twitch of the hips, letting gravity do most of the work as Tommy sinks down onto his cock, and he feels stretched and full and _taken,_ and it knocks all the air out of him, like there's no room for it, nothing else inside him but Adam.

Adam bottoms out, and stills for a long moment, long enough for Tommy to open his eyes and give him a curious look. And he's glad he does, because Adam looks absolutely _gone,_ staring down at the place where they're joined, at the stretch of Tommy's skirt and Adam's hips nestled snug in between. But Tommy really fucking needs Adam to _move_ now, so he starts to swivel his hips, tiny little circles with Adam's cock buried inside him, and Adam groans and gets a better grip and finally, _finally,_ starts to fuck him.

The angle is amazing, and Tommy just hangs on and lets Adam take him for a ride, throwing his head back and mewling into the air, soft sweet sounds that barely register on his senses, all his attention focused on Adam's cock thrusting into him, steady at first, then picking up speed, harder and harder and faster and faster, and _fuck,_ he's hitting the perfect spot now, hitting it with every thrust, and Tommy's not going to last long, not with his cock all pressed up against the leather of his skirt and Adam moving just perfectly against it, and fucking into him just right.

And then Adam comes closer, his face buried into Tommy's neck, licking and sucking and biting, words spilling out when he has room and air for them. "So fucking pretty, such a pretty thing, bet every guy in this room is jealous right now, wishes they were right here inside you. But they can't have you, baby, because you're fucking _mine,_ all mine, aren't you? Mine, mine, mine," and the words emphasize every thrust, and Tommy can't respond, can't do anything but give himself over to Adam, and his cries are getting higher and louder and there's no way they're not drawing an audience, but he doesn't fucking care because Adam's getting close, losing his rhythm, and Tommy is right there with him, and he takes one hand from Adam's neck and gets it down between them, fisting his cock roughly to Adam's pace.

"Ready for me, baby? Want me to come inside you, fill you up, get you all wet and leaking for me? Gonna take it all?" Adam says brokenly, and Tommy can't answer, can't put words together, but his hand moves faster on his cock and his hips thrust toward Adam and oh fuck _yes,_ he wants it.

And then Adam thrusts one more time, hard and deep and final, long hot pulses inside him, and Tommy can feel every one, and then he's coming himself, falling deliciously over the edge, spilling all over his hand and his bare legs and his skirt, and fuck if that thought doesn't just take him that much higher, uneven white stripes on black leather, and for a minute he can't see and he can't think and he can't do much of anything but just _be._

Then Adam is pulling out of him, easing Tommy's legs from around his waist and setting him down on his feet, holding on tight until Tommy comes back to himself and remembers how to stand. Tommy blinks his eyes open and looks up into Adam's face, and Adam is grinning down at him all happy and sleepy and satisfied, and Tommy couldn't agree more. Adam pulls him into a hug and whispers into his ear, "Come on now. Let's get home. I wanna get you out of those clothes and cuddle you and keep you forever."

Tommy grins and nuzzles into Adam again and says, "Yeah, that sounds good. But what about...?" He pulls back and looks down at himself, at his stained skirt, and he can feel Adam's come leaking out of him, a slow wet slide down his inner thigh that's so incredibly visible because of the damn outfit.

But Adam just gets that heated possessive look back in his eyes and says, "Let them see. Let them look at you and go fucking crazy with jealousy and know that you're _taken._ "

And even though Tommy's _just_ come, still not even come down from it, Adam's words send sparks all through him, and he squirms a little and nods and lets Adam point him toward the door.

They make their slow way through the crowd, and Adam keeps a hand at the small of Tommy's back the whole time, looming over his shoulder and fucking _daring_ anyone to try and make a move, and Tommy pouts his lips and holds his head high, showing off the fresh marks he can feel forming on his neck, and he can feel the wetness between his legs with every step, slick and shiny and marking him as Adam's.

Adam's true to his word, as always, and gets Tommy undressed and showered and then pulls him into bed in that purposeful way that either means fucking or a fuck-ton of cuddling. Tommy settles into it happily, brain buzzing quietly with everything that's happened tonight, and really, he's only left with one thing to say.

"Adam?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we do that again?"

And Adam laughs and pulls him closer and whispers, "Oh fuck yes, baby. Whenever you want."


End file.
